


Are We There Yet?

by rideswraptors



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David offers some more baby branches of his own, Episode: s04e09 Coda, M/M, artist!David, fluffy and soft, no smut to be found here, the olive branch, which is new for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-16 13:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19319137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: After David finishes his dance for Patrick, he wants to make good on more olive branches, but he's not ready to dig into his past yet. He picks the "show" in Show and Tell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little blip I wrote to process my emotions
> 
> My random Patrick x David playlist faves:  
> Are We There Yet? - Ingrid Michaelson  
> Move Together - James Bay  
> Something I Need- OneRepublic  
> Touch- Little Mix  
> Never Stop- SafetySuit  
> Brave- Riley Pearce
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr: rideswraptors

 

“I am still hungry, you know.” 

 

David, sitting in Patrick’s lap now, dropped his head back with a laughing groan. He was still amazed that Patrick could provoke the  _ shit _ out of him without killing the mood. Honestly, it was a skill. David squeezed his eyes tight when he felt Patrick’s lips brush against the corner of his chin. He had an arm wrapped around David’s middle, the other locked against his thigh, keeping him close. He’d had partners complain about his size before, tell him he was too big or too tall for them to indulge this way. 

 

But David could only smirk when he tried to get up and Patrick’s grip on him noticeably tightened. David let himself relax back onto his lap and found himself in the midst of one of Patrick’s drugging kisses, which never failed to leave him dizzy. When he pulled back Patrick’s eyes were heavy and dark, his face lacking all the teasing from before.

 

“Can I tell you about Rachel?” 

 

The corner of David’s mouth lifted involuntarily and he shrugged.

 

“You can tell me anything you’d like.” He pressed a kiss between his temple and his eye, reveling in how Patrick leaned into it. “But let me feed you first.” 

 

“Not the cafe,” he agreed, “I don’t want to share you right now.”  

 

David whined, “Have I mentioned that you’re perfect?” 

 

“David--” He cut that bit of chastising off with a kiss and got to his feet. Patrick didn’t follow, but held onto his hand. 

 

“We need to eat and then talk. I’m staying over. Clothes can...stay on,” he said with an eye roll, “or not. That’s up to you.” Patrick was doing that thing where he got that cute little smitten look which had earned him several gross nicknames from Alexis. David still wasn’t  _ totally  _ comfortable with that look?  People didn’t look at him like that. Ever. David watched people looking at  _ other people _ like that. Like Sebastian. Everyone looked at Sebastian like that. Not David. Except...his stomach flipped when a shiver went down his spine. Patrick’s eyes were locked on him just as intensely as if he were still dancing to Tina. For the first time in the relationship, David was gonna let himself get addicted to it. 

 

He pulled his lips in and tugged at his hand, “C’mon.” His voice was so quiet, he almost thought he hadn’t said anything. But Patrick followed, still holding his hand. Luckily they only had to turn off the lights and lock the door behind them. Locking the door wasn’t so easy because Patrick was plastered to his side and wouldn’t give back his hand. David shook his head at him, but did his best. 

 

Patrick drove them out to Elmdale because Alexis was a bitch and he had no idea where the car was at right now. He drove one-handed, keeping a hand on David’s thigh. And David couldn’t help but keep his body turned toward him, his own hand covering his, playing with his fingers. David had the brilliant idea to call in their order to their favorite restaurant so it would be ready, to go, when they got there. Patrick finally relinquished his grip on David long enough for him to pay for and retrieve their food, and then they were driving for a tiny park where they could leave the car and eat under a gazebo. It was a spot they used when they couldn’t get any privacy at home, and it was never very busy since it was old and the new park had much nicer places to sit and relax. 

 

They sat on the bench with their legs tangled up, food on their laps. And without prompting, Patrick dove into the whole happy and sordid story of his relationship with Rachel. Eating kept David from commenting or asking too many questions. And he had  _ a lot _ of questions. Mostly for Rachel, actually. Like, why try so hard for a guy who broke it off with you three times already? But while Patrick ranted about a particularly nasty fight in their college years, David’s eyes flicked over him. Like as a whole person. Maybe he understood Rachel better than he wanted to. There wasn’t much David Rose wasn’t willing to do to keep a guy like Patrick Brewer in his life. This whole night, for example. He was such a sweet, decent person. Look how hard he’d tried for someone he wasn’t even sexually attracted to! Patrick devoted himself to people and projects in a way that David had never really been capable of before Schitt’s Creek. He was so generous with himself. It made David want to do...very, very stupid things. 

 

Like lip sync to Tina Turner in the middle of their store with big open windows on the busiest street in town. 

 

They finished their food, but Patrick was only just coming up on his arrival in Schitt’s Creek. David got up to throw their trash away and turned back around to find Patrick already reaching for him. He sat down and let Patrick curl into him; wrapped his arm around Patrick’s shoulders and settled them back into a comfortable position. 

 

“I knew if I stayed, we’d just fall back into it. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted something more. Better.”

 

“So you moved to Schitt’s Creek?” David scoffed, commenting really for the first time. Patrick snorted, muffling his laughter with David’s shoulder.

 

“We had a teacher in high school who always said that if we didn’t do something productive with our lives, we were going to end up in Schitt’s Creek without a paddle.”

 

David dipped his head, “He was not wrong.” He turned when he felt Patrick’s eyes on him again and melted. Stupid smitten look getting the best of his cool outward image. 

 

“I’m okay without one,” Patrick said softly. David could help the flush and twisted his lips to hide the all-out smile threatening to take over. Patrick leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek, butting his forehead against his temple. “Let’s go home.”

 

“Okay.”  

 

By the time they got back to Patrick’s, there was only one thing still bothering David. He pinned it down once they were getting ready for bed. Patrick was already cuddled under the blankets and nagging David to hurry it up. It felt so painfully  _ normal _ that David’s chest tightened. That’s when it hit him. Equity. Patrick was being clingy and needy because he was feeling vulnerable. Because he’d bared his past for David with a lense that he’d probably never vocalized to anyone other than himself in the bathroom mirror. 

 

David watched him, hand on his hip and lips pulled in thoughtfully. Patrick tilted his head in response, brow furrowed. David just shook his head, held up a finger, and went to his bag. He found what he needed quickly, as it was always in the side pocket, a sharpened pencil and a fine tipped pen slotted against it. He held it against his chest momentarily before turning around and offering it to Patrick, who held it gingerly for a moment, eyes lingering on David, before looking down at it. 

 

“I’ve seen this before.”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“I thought it was your bullet journal for the store?”

 

David shook his head and crawled into bed, flopping onto the other side of Patrick while he flipped open what was actually David’s sketchbook. If it had been anyone else looking, David would have stared right at the ceiling, not wanting to watch the reaction to what was probably the most intimate of his possessions. Not with this person, though. He rolled onto his side and cataloged every minute tick and movement of Patrick’s expression. 

 

Naturally, his insanely perfect boyfriend started at page one instead of opening to the middle as normal people were wont to do. He carefully examined every page, reading every note, fingers tracing along the edges of what David knew were probably doodles of his family, Stevie, the motel, ideas for the store. He wouldn’t find what David wanted him to see until he was three-quarters of the way through. Because it had taken that long for Patrick to show up in Schitt's Creek. 

 

“I’m not ready to get into  _ everything _ in my past yet,” David said with a quiet, and frustrated, sigh. “I appreciate you telling me about Rachel. But like...you loved her. And she loved you. And it was messy and hard, but…”

 

“Yeah,” Patrick croaked out, still looking at the book. 

 

“So,” David said, clearing his throat, “think of this as part olive branch, part...promise. That I will tell you, in proportionate chunks, everything you need, or want, to know.” He pressed his lips shut tight when he heard Patrick’s sharp little inhalation. 

 

“ _ David _ \--”

 

“I got my MFA,” he confessed blandly. “My family doesn’t even know that really. They knew I was doing things with art, but not like...educating myself. And...well, Stevie might know because she’s a snoop and goes through my things to irritate me. So...you are the first person I’ve told. Officially.” 

 

David had known he was attracted to Patrick from day one. But that was par for the course. He encountered stupidly attractive people all of the time without doing anything about it. His sketchbook was to get images out of his head, not to keep them there. So his first sketch of Patrick hadn’t happened until after the whole Lice Incident. That look of concern on his face, like he actually  _ cared _ about David’s comfort and not the quality of the store’s stock, had been burned in his brain. So that was the first sketch. 

 

The next dozen or so were just quick sketches, case studies of different angles of body parts; hands, eyes, arms, shoulders, profile. Some were drawn in multiples because David couldn’t quite get something right. The way Patrick’s fingers spread over the counter, the slope of his back when he spoke with a customer, the way his hands cradled certain items in the store when they stocked for the day. His expression when he was teasing David, his eyes rolling, the curve of his ear, a close-lipped smile or two. Even the way his chest filled out those stupid blue dress shirts he had a never-ending supply of. 

 

Patrick’s fingers were reverent as they touched each page. But when he got to the end, he frowned. 

 

“It’s full.”

 

“Yes, it is.” 

 

“So--”

 

“It’s my bag book. I also have the same one at the store and another one at the motel? I draw when I’m thinking or I can’t sleep,” he confessed, biting his lip. His two-day panic attack being the one exception to that rule. Patrick looked at him sharply, finally tearing his eyes away from David’s drawings. David used that opportunity to take it back and set it aside. That was enough exposure for one night. He shrugged, settling back into Patrick’s waiting arms. “It got filled up pretty quickly, so I bought two more just in case.” He felt Patrick’s mouth pressed to his temple and he shut his eyes against it. “There’s a lot more of you in the other ones. I just--I’m really attached to those first ones. Like to look at them.” 

 

“I’d like to see more if you’re okay with that.” 

 

“I am.” Patrick hummed, thumb rubbing along David’s skin by his hip. David just smiled and turned to peck his lips. “Just ask already.”

 

“Did you draw everyone you were with?” 

 

David lifted his eyebrows. “Most. I didn’t have full books of them, but I drew whoever was available, even just to practice.” He licked his lips, noticing the way Patrick’s eyes zeroed in on them. As always. “But no one’s gotten to see them...except you.” 

 

He felt rather than heard Patrick’s heavy sigh. “I’ll take it,” he whispered before leaning in to kiss him. David felt Patrick’s hand on his cheek and thought he’d cry. There were a few days there when he’d honestly believed that this was gone for good. Not just Patrick’s kisses and sex, but the feeling of wholeness and safety that came with it. The ineffable  _ calm _ that came with it. Ineffable being a word Alexis supplied when David couldn’t figure out how to explain why Patrick was just so different than every other person he’d been with. And while they both agreed they were spending  _ way too much _ time with their mother, ineffable was, in fact, the perfect word for it. 

 

“Let’s open the store late tomorrow,” Patrick said against his lips. David nodded eagerly, going back in for deeper, dirtier kisses, loving Patrick’s low chuckle rumbling against his chest. Patrick offering to open late was the equivalent of David offering blow jobs while Patrick watched baseball games. It was a  _ treat _ , an exception to the rule, not the norm. 

 

“And I want one.” 

 

David reared back, blinking rapidly through his confusion. “Want one what? A blow job?”

 

“Huh?” Right, he’d just been  _ thinking  _ about blow jobs, not talking about them. Patrick shook his head. “I want a drawing. One of your drawings? Obviously, you can pick which ones I can choose from, but I want one. To have. Here.” 

 

“Uhm.” David coughed, face pinching up. “Why?” Even to him it sounded self-deprecating and pathetic. Patrick pulled his lips in and David rolled his eyes, knowing just from his expression what was coming next. 

 

“Because I hate them so much.”

 

“ _O_ kay.”

 

“And I want to burn one. Just to emphasize how much I hate that my gorgeous and talented boyfriend sneaks around and creepily draws me in horrible detail. I just...hate it so much that he draws me to help him go to sleep.” 

 

“Mmmkay.” 

 

“Because why else would I ask for one?” 

 

“You finished, or..?”

 

The smug face melted into a real smile then, and David’s pathetic little heart couldn’t take that big sparkle in Patrick’s eye. 

 

“I want to put one on a canvas. If you’ll let me. Be able to put it up. Look at it when I miss you.” 

 

“Just one?” 

 

“Obviously I’m going to take pictures of the others when you’re not paying attention, but I figured you’d be more comfortable with just one for now.” 

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Mmm,” Patrick agreed. “Wait til I tell you we should use your sketches for decoration in the store.” David’s eyes widened in a panic. “The ones of the  _ store _ . The displays? Your diagrams?” 

 

He relaxed. “Oh. Right. That might…” he licked his lips, “I could be amenable to....negotiating that?” 

 

Patrick wrapped his arms more tightly around him, and David couldn’t help but sink into his embrace, couldn’t help but lay his head on Patrick’s chest, his ear over his heartbeat. 

 

“Thank you for showing me.” 

 

“You’re welcome.” David sniffed. “Do not tell Stevie.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Or my sister.”

 

“I understand, David.” 

 

“Like, you can tell your mom or whatever, just no one who lives in this town.” 

 

“Whatever you say, David.”

 

“It’s just I’ve had people ask me to draw them before, and it feels very attack-y.” 

 

He heard Patrick’s exasperated sigh. “Go to sleep, David.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece. Patrick's POV

David ended up in his lap because that’s what David did. Behaved erratically, made up for it phenomenally, and then crawled into Patrick’s lap to kiss the crap out of him. Patrick, himself, was finding it difficult to complain because not only was the wait so, so worth it, but he’d also really just missed holding his goddamn boyfriend. He was so fucking touch starved at this point that having David front and center was too much of a temptation to pass up. But as always, Patrick couldn’t help being a dick. 

 

“I am still hungry, you know.” 

 

Patrick chuckled as David let his head drop back, groaning lightly. It was never an easy time getting David to detach, even when food was involved. It was too cute, and Patrick couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the part of his chin he could reach. Their position was a little precarious, but Patrick was very much confident that he could keep David perched there as long as he wanted. He emphasized that point when he felt David start to move to stand. Every muscle in his body tensed in protest. 

 

David’s answering smirk was enough to make Patrick’s heart flutter, but, shockingly, he didn’t tease, just relaxed against him. So Patrick took advantage of it to get David’s mouth back on his. He’d missed it. Missed  _ them _ . Missed how good and comfortable it felt kissing David with no plans and no interruptions. David never failed to rile him up, and Patrick had to fight back that rush of lust in his blood. It had been a whole fucking  _ week _ . A whole week without this. Patrick had no plans to ever let that happen again.

 

“Can I tell you about Rachel?” 

 

He was nervous about asking. A part of him thought David would argue, that he wouldn’t want to know anything about her. But Patrick couldn’t imagine  _ not _ telling him at this point. He’d always intended to anyway. She just...accelerated the timetable. By a lot. 

 

Patrick was overwhelmed with relief when David half-smiled at him, when he shrugged.

 

“You can tell me anything you’d like.” Patrick pushed against the press of David’s lips against the outer corner of his eye. Let himself be grounded by it. “But let me feed you first.” 

 

Crap. “Not at the cafe. I don’t want to share you right now.” 

 

From the wriggle of David’s hips, Patrick knew he agreed. David did that sorority girl whine he was wont to do when he thought Patrick had said something particularly cute.

 

“Have I mentioned that you’re perfect?”

 

Patrick was geared up to tell him off for it. Them romanticizing each other, letting themselves get distracted, was one of the reasons they were in this mess in the first place. But David kissed him quiet. Duly noted. When he got to his feet, Patrick didn’t move right away, just held onto his hand. Just looked at him. 

 

“We need to eat and then talk. I’m staying over. Clothes can...stay on.” Patrick suppressed a snort. Patrick’s clothes  _ never _ stayed on when David was over. “Or not. That’s up to you.” 

 

Patrick was having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that they were good. That they were back together. His lie didn’t ruin them. David was...ridiculous. But Patrick knew he probably deserved a little bit of misery for the whole unexpected shitshow that was Rachel’s arrival. Somehow, someway, he’d earned David’s trust. Despite the messiness. He kept watching him, noting every detail he could, because he still couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that David wanted back in. All in. That he’d  _ fought _ to get back in. He was gorgeous and funny and so  _ giving _ of himself, and Patrick couldn’t help but be a little overwhelmed by him. Like. All of the time. He teased him a lot, sure, but...his eyes were just so damn pretty when he was flustered. 

 

David tugged on his hand and whispered something Patrick didn’t quite catch. He still felt a little dazed. He got up and followed as David turned off the lights, locked the door behind him. Patrick wasn’t making it easy, latched onto his hand and crowding his space, but he didn’t really care. He was still afraid that if he let go, David was going to vanish, or he’d wake up and realized he’d had another dream. 

 

Naturally, David was car-less. Patrick would have felt sorry for him, but the whole family was notorious about inconveniencing others by not keeping a schedule for car use, so he really did it to himself. He drove them out to their favorite spot in Elmdale, a farm-to-table bistro, and Patrick kept a hand on David’s thigh the entire drive. Thankfully, David thought ahead and called in their order to-go. Which was a relief. Because even a waitress interrupting their time alone would have been grating. 

 

Patrick had to release David to get their food, and kept both hands on the steering wheel while he waited. If he let go, he figured he’d probably follow David into the restaurant, and that would be a whole  _ thing _ , this was just more efficient. Staying put was in his best interest in the long run. The second David shut the door, Patrick was driving for the old park they usually went to when they were in town. It was the original town square, run down gazebo and all, that had sort of been abandoned for the much newer, nicer, and bigger park down the street. They were free to sprawl out and eat in peace and relative privacy. 

 

Keeping their legs tangled and their food in their laps, Patrick launched into the whole narrative without much preamble. He’d rehearsed it like a speech at least a hundred times over the last week. It was the only way he’d been able to keep himself sane without David around in the store. When it was empty, he said the words out loud, trying to figure out how David would respond, what would actually happen during the conversation. Turns out all that worry was for nothing because David didn’t say a word the entire time. 

 

He was listening. Intently. Nodding here and there, watching Patrick’s face like he was expecting something. Patrick knew, in his gut, that David had dozens of questions, but he just sat and ate. Listened. Patrick wasn’t really used to that. Not just from David, but from anyone. Patrick was usually the one who listened, who solved the problem, who made everything okay. He wasn’t good at being taken care of. This. This right here was David taking care of him. And Patrick felt that down to his bones the longer he talked. Because David knew, without being told or warned, that Patrick needed to verbalize every part of the speech he had planned. He needed, really and truly  _ needed _ , David to know everything. If David had commented or asked a question, he may never have finished or he may have forgotten something. Left some part out. He really had to stop underestimating how much David was willing to do for him. 

 

The only interruption came when David got up to throw their trash away. He was explaining how he’d ended the engagement and moved, and he’d told Rachel not to contact him. That he’d been so  _ excited _ to be around David and the store that he just hadn’t even thought about her until she’d texted him three months into their relationship. Patrick reached out for David as he came to sit back down, but somehow found himself cradled in David’s arms, found that this was his favorite spot ever. 

 

“She’s done it before. Pretended to send an accidental text to get my attention, and then suddenly we’re meeting up for drinks and we just---” He sighed. “That’s why I moved away. I knew if I stayed, we’d just fall back into it. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted something more. Better.” 

 

A sly grin crept over David’s face. “So you moved to Schitt’s Creek?”

 

Patrick dropped his face to David’s shoulder, smothering a laugh and pressing a kiss there.

 

“We had a teacher in high school who always said that if we didn’t do something productive with our lives, we were going to end up in Schitt’s Creek without a paddle.”

 

“He was not wrong.” When David turned to look back at him, he flushed. Probably because he was already looking at him. David still didn’t understand why Patrick liked watching him so much. 

 

“I’m okay without one,” he told David without hesitation. David’s lips twisted and Patrick couldn’t help smiling in response. Couldn’t help kissing his cheek, pressing their heads together just for more contact. But he was sick of being out in the open. He wanted David behind closed doors, he wanted to be wrapped up in him, tucked away from everything. “Let’s go home.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Patrick, logically, knew he was being whiny and pathetic, but he hadn’t had David cuddled against him for a whole week and he’d  _ missed it _ . So yes, right in that moment, his boyfriend's extensive skin care regimen and unnecessary dawdling was irritating. Especially when said boyfriend went from smirking to standing at the foot of the bed frowning. Patrick spread his arms, about ready to dig in on a new round of  _ what the fuck David, hurry up _ , when David’s expression suddenly turned thoughtful. It had Patrick frowning now, but David just held up a finger and started rooting around in his bag. Patrick would have been annoyed, but then he was being handed an awfully familiar looking book. 

 

“I’ve seen this before,” he said before he could think it. David hummed agreement. “I thought it was your bullet journal for the store?” David wasn’t exactly tech-phobic, but he was a control freak. That meant he wrote everything down in a place he could control without pesky variables to account for; like a battery dying or a Russian hacking into his webcam. Patrick took David’s crawling into bed with him as permission to look through it. 

 

Tempting as it was to open it to the middle, just to see, Patrick opened to the first page. He wanted to know what he was getting into. And he could feel David’s gaze heavy on him, so he knew this was a big deal. 

 

He’d expected a bullet journal. Which some of it was. There were notes and reminders and comments, for sure. All in a stylistic, color-coded font with dates and times listed. His boyfriend was meticulous when it came to some things, including his clothes, hygiene, and cleaning schedule. But what he hadn’t expected were the small drawings scattered in. Most were just fractions of images in the corners or on the sides. A flower here, a random hand there. Some took up whole pages, like the ones of Stevie or Alexis, of Mrs. Rose fitting her wig or Mr. Rose drinking his tea. There were sketches of the cafe and Twyla, of Alexis and Ted bent together, a lot more of Stevie. Then there were sketches and diagrams of layouts for the store, for displays, for the logo and labels. Patrick touched the lines and curves gingerly, not wanting to smudge, but not able to resist it either. They were  _ gorgeous _ . Detailed and careful, the edges blurry and smudged enough to look dreamy instead of sharp. They looked like memories, not drawings. 

 

He took his time with it, and he could see the progression of David’s time in Schitt’s Creek. His own arrival on the pages didn’t come until near the end. And the first one left him so stunned, he almost couldn’t breathe. It was dated, so it was obviously before they opened the store, but Patrick couldn’t place the day. The first sketch was an intense study of his face, neck, and shoulders. He could tell he was relaxed from the angle of his arms, and there were subtle indications he was in the store. He also had the distinct feeling that the perspective was uniquely David’s, like he’d been looking right at him. Standing in front of him. 

 

“I’m not ready to get into  _ everything _ in my past yet.” David’s sigh wrenched his heart a little. “I appreciate you telling me about Rachel. But like...you loved her. And she loved you. And it was messy and hard, but…”

 

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed. But. But it wasn’t the same as digging into David’s past. As Patrick kept looking through the drawings, the multiple sketches of his hands with random objects, on random surfaces, his arms, shoulders, profile, his eyes. David had drawn him from different angles, with different expressions, even when he was rolling his eyes. That made him smile. 

 

“So,” David cleared his throat, “think of this as part olive branch, part..promise. That I will tell you, in proportionate chunks, everything you need or want to know.”

 

“ _ David _ \--” 

 

“I got my MFA.” He said it without aplomb, without the pride it deserved. “My family doesn’t even know that really. They knew I was doing things with art, but not like...educating myself. And...well, Stevie might know because she’s a snoop and goes through my things to irritate me. So...you are the first person I’ve told. Officially.” 

 

Patrick lingered on the full body sketches. There was one with a vague outline of a customer, David must have been watching him from the register. There was another with him outside the store, stocking the vegetables. The way he’d drawn him through the glass was really incredible. 

 

“It’s full,” he said when he got to the last page. He’d lost track of himself there for a second, hadn’t realized how close to the end he was. By the dates, this only went into the first month of their relationship. He was a little disappointed.  

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

Had he stopped drawing, then? 

 

“So--”

 

“It’s my bag book. I also have the same one at the store and another one at the motel?” Oh fuck, he was so cute. “I draw when I’m thinking or I can’t sleep.” His confession had Patrick’s blood pumping hard and fast. He couldn’t stand not looking at him, so he let himself, and was blessed with that gorgeous, shy confessional look David got when he was speaking against his will. Unsurprisingly, he used Patrick’s being distracted by his face to pluck the sketchbook out of his hands and put it far away from them. Patrick just sighed and coaxed him back into his arms, holding him close. 

 

“It got filled up pretty quickly, so I bought two more just in case.”

 

Patrick had to kiss him. He couldn’t  _ not _ . He settled for kissing the side of his head because he was still talking and a little raw, so. 

 

“There’s a lot more of you in the other ones. I just--I’m really attached to those first ones. Like to look at them.”

 

Attached was underselling it in Patrick’s case. He’d marveled at those dates, at how intensely David had been watching him for all of that time. Patrick had been doing it too, in his own way. Ascribing a song to David’s every mood. Building playlists around their days together. Trying to figure out which songs highlighted how he felt best. 

 

“I’d like to see more, if you’re okay with that.”

 

“I am.” Patrick bit back a cheer and settled for feeling him up, dragging his fingers against bare skin. He was rewarded with a sharp kiss and an amused grin. “Just ask already.”

 

“Did you draw everyone you were with?” 

 

David's answer definitely made him feel better. It was nice knowing that he'd shared a part of himself no one else got to see. It hadn't been taken out and examined, a privilege used and abused by the people David had allowed into his life before Schitt's Creek. With most people, David existed behind a curtain. Instead of slowly drawing it back, David had yanked Patrick inside and shut it behind him. It was making him feel incredibly protective. He sighed.

 

"I'll take it." It was a natural segue to kissing him, Patrick overindulged. His hand landed on David's cheek, and he could feel the ripples of David's full body shudder before he relaxed into it. He was always wound up so tight. Patrick was very smug about being able to calm this person, this man who seemed incapable of letting go and submitting to the natural flow of things. Patrick would never be able to wrap his head around the fact that David chose to seek out comfort from  _ him _ . But he decided he didn't care why, he would just keep giving it.

 

"Let's open the store late tomorrow," he said against David's lips. From the way his nostrils flared and his eyes started shining, Patrick might as well have offered a full day of sweets and sex. David equated tardiness with reward, and he was already looking a little dazed.

 

"And I want one," Patrick said, nodding his head toward the sketchbook.

 

"Want one what? A blowjob?"

 

"Huh?" In a likelihood  _ David  _ had been thinking about blowjobs and had tuned him out a bit. His boyfriend was remarkably skilled at making everything about food and sex. "I want a drawing. One of your drawings?" he teased. "Obviously you can pick which ones I can choose from, but I want one. To have. Here."

 

David blanched. "Uhm.  _ Why _ ?"

 

Patrick pulled what could only be, as Stevie called it, his David-face. Sometimes David Rose made it way too easy, and Patrick was not exactly a saint. There was also a little bit of malice behind Patrick’s teasing. In the direction of everyone David had ever been with. Because they’d all let David get away with this self-deprecating behavior. They’d let David run haywire without checking him. They let him believe he wasn’t good enough for a second look. So Patrick teased him. Because a conversation in earnest wouldn’t have gotten him anywhere, but David’s eye roll in response to his facial expression alone was enough for Patrick to move mountains.

 

“Because I hate them so much,” Patrick supplied flatly.

 

“ _ O _ kay.”

 

But he couldn’t let this one go. “And I want to burn one. Just to emphasize  _ how much _ I hate that my gorgeous and talented boyfriend sneaks around and creepily draws me in horrible detail. I just…” he sighed for theatrics, “hate it...so much that he draws me to help him go to sleep.”

 

“Mmmmkay,” David followed up irritably, shifting around to settle back against the pillows. Patrick forged ahead, watching him.

 

“Because why else would I ask for one?”

 

“You finished, or..?”

 

David had clearly had enough, and Patrick was feeling generous, so he let it go. They were both a little too raw for their usual antics. But it was nice to know it hadn’t been totally ruined. David got that fond look on his face, the one that made Patrick go to ridiculous lengths to get him whatever he needed. Whatever he wanted. He was fairly certain that David wasn’t aware of this power he had over him, and that was probably for the best. 

 

“I want to put one on canvas. If you’ll let me. Be able to put it up. Look at it when I miss you.” Which was all the time. Patrick had to bite back those words hard so they didn’t slip out. Neither one of them was ready for Patrick to blurt his feelings out all over David. He seemed to know anyway.

 

“Just one?” David teased back lightly. Patrick’s stomach flipped.

 

“Obviously I’m going to take pictures of the others when you’re not paying attention, but I figured you’d be more comfortable with just one for now.”

 

“Obviously.” 

 

“Mmm,” he couldn’t resist, “Wait til I tell you we should use your sketches for decoration in the store.” Patrick nearly snorted at David’s rising panic. “The ones of the store. The displays? Your diagrams?” 

 

Hilariously, David visibly relaxed. “Oh. Right. That might…” Patrick tracked David’s tongue swiping along his bottom lip. “I could be amenable to...negotiating that?”

 

Negotiating, his ass. He was getting every single decent sketch of the store enlarged, frame, and displayed somewhere. He knew the Roses would want a few of those sketches, too. Stevie would probably faint if she saw the ones of her at the motel. Twyla, too. It was Patrick’s new project. Instead of saying  _ any _ of that, he wrapped David up in his arms and moved them into a more comfortable cuddling situation with David’s head on his chest.

 

“Thank you for showing me.” It was a risk for David to reveal that part of himself. Patrick knew that better than anyone.

 

“You’re welcome. Don’t tell Stevie.”

 

“Sure.” Not yet, anyway.

 

“Or my sister.” 

 

“I understand, David.” Oh, Alexis was going to die when she saw that sketch of her and Ted from 2 years ago.

 

“Like, you can tell your mom or whatever.” Patrick was absolutely going to show his mom at some point. Whenever he figured out how to tell her about him and David. “Just no one who lives in this town.”

 

“Whatever you say, David.”

 

“It’s just I’ve had people ask me to draw them before, and it feels very attack-y.”

 

Patrick sighed, letting his eyes close, and not wishing even for a second that David was any less than what he was. He just wished he could punch a few people from his past. Even the score a little.

 

“Go to sleep, David.”

  
  



End file.
